Triptych: A Life in Ten Acts
by silentlullabye
Summary: It's the usual story. Boy meets boy. Boy falls for boy. Boy leaves boy. Boy comes back. Boy meets girl. Boy misses boy. Eames and Arthur struggle through cliches while figuring out the mystery that is the other. Slash. Het. Some language. Complete.
1. Act I

Triptych: A Life in Ten Acts

An Inception Fanfic.

* * *

Act I:

The first time he lays eyes on the infamous Mr. Eames, Arthur knows he's going to be a pain in the ass. Cobb spoke so highly of his abilities as both forger and thief, but the first meeting tells Arthur that his skills are much outweighed by his flaws. That lascivious smirk, his come-to-me-now eyes, and the flirtatious nature that engulfs everything in sight.

Mal thinks he is charming. Arthur almost snorts when she says this. He finds Mr. Eames to be anything but. He chews his food too loudly. He loses far too many inhibitions when under the influence (the poor crowd at Tooley's Pub would forever be scarred by Eames' drunken serenade - to a bar stool.). And for whatever reason, he seems to believe that he is God's gift to women, men, and basically any gorgeous thing alive.

This includes Arthur.

But he has to give Mr. Eames a few props. After all, his quick thinking and forgery of a lovely brunette have saved their asses on several occasions.

Cobb says he is the best at what he does. Mal, naturally, agrees. Arthur becomes convinced that they are completely blind to Mr. Eames' true nature.

.

The first time he realizes Mr. Eames is flirting with him is in the middle of a job for a major alternative energy corporation. Standing in the middle of a crowded market, Eames steps a little too close to Arthur for comfort, and then proceeds to casually place an arm around his shoulders. As if they were a couple, out for a bit of shopping.

When the job is done, and the four of them are awake in the warehouse, Arthur decides that what Mr. Eames needs is a right hook. And so he delivers one.

Cobb laughs good-naturedly. Mal tisks at them.

It isn't until Arthur is safely tucked away in his hotel bed that night that he allows himself to remember the feel of that hand on his shoulder.

.

He wouldn't label himself as gay. He wouldn't label himself as anything. He doesn't see the point. It isn't like he has some booming sex life of any type happening at the moment. There really isn't any time.

But Arthur notices himself becoming increasingly aware of Mr. Eames. Where he was. What he was doing. Who he was with.

It becomes frustrating to the extreme. Not because Arthur wants Eames for himself, but because he doesn't and it doesn't seem to matter.

It isn't until Mal notices that Arthur realizes what's happening.

.

She has a very keen eye. The bordering-on-abusive banter Eames and Arthur spit back and forth to each other was a big giveaway. Mal thinks it's quite adorable that Arthur likes him. Arthur finds it increasingly difficult to pretend she's wrong.

But it's all in the way Eames leans against the counter next to him when he's making coffee. Or sits just a little too close in his folding chair. Or the hand that presses into the small of his back as they enter a room.

It's the glint in Eames' eye when he looks at him. The small smile playing on the corner of his mouth when he comes into work in the morning. The once abrasive banter that is suddenly more light-hearted, even subtle.

It's the pet names that make Arthur want to rip his hair out, but at the same time he secretly loves because they are said in a startlingly sexy accent.

The startlingly sexy accent.

It's two years after the very first meeting when they go out for drinks. And Arthur still finds Mr. Eames to be a pain in the ass. But despite all his flaws, he thinks that maybe the sincere smile and conversation more than make up for them.

* * *

A/N: Hi. This is my first _Inception_ fic, and it will definitely not be my last. I am pretty much obsessed with the movie. And JGL. Of course. Anyway, I plan to post a chapter every week. I have about half of the story finished and I just need to edit it so I should be able to keep my deadlines. I am in college currently though, so sometimes life throws me curveballs.

Please review. I know people always ask that. And then they give you reasons why you should. But, I want you to review because only like one in every ten people on review anything. So be special. Review! I love compliments and positive criticism. But as this will be a slashy story, flamers need not apply. Seriously. Just click the little back button. (Still not sure why any potential flamer clicks on any story with the word slash in the summary if they aren't into that, but hey, whatever.)

And thanks to everyone for reading!

**Disclaimer: **_**Inception**_** is the property of Christopher Nolan.**


	2. Act II

Triptych: A Life in Ten Acts

An Inception Fanfic.

* * *

Act II:

Technically, Arthur made the first move. But in all later accounts, Eames insists it was himself.

Drinks had become a habit they shared every week; usually to celebrate another job well done. But when the bars closed and the night was drawing to a close, neither Eames nor Arthur felt like stopping.

It was two and a half years since their first meeting, and Eames was beginning to seriously picture his future, with Arthur in it. It was a long way from two and half years previously, when all Eames had cared to imagine was what Arthur's face would look like covered in ecstasy as he writhed beneath him.

He couldn't decide if it was because of the direct way Arthur spoke about himself or the smile that lit up his eyes on the very rare occasion when Eames made him laugh instead of just acting like a complete arse.

Whatever the reason, Eames didn't feel the restlessness he usually felt when he had been in one place for too long. Dom and Mal were like family. And Arthur was even more.

**.**

It was two years, seven months, and eighteen days since their first meeting when they shared their first kiss. He was surprisingly sober at the time, and so could clearly remember the fluttering of Arthur's eyelashes as he blinked at him, their lips finally parting.

Drinks at the local pub were a thing of the past. It was easier to go back to the hotel.

For a month, they played a subtle game in which they danced around each other. Eames was not a commitment kind of guy. Arthur knew this.

His problem was with labels, and his lack of them.

He wouldn't label himself as gay. But in the changing roles he was experiencing with Mr. Eames he was finding it increasingly difficult to manage without one.

Finally, all was laid bare in a single sentence.

"It doesn't matter."

And Arthur found himself on his back with Eames inside of him. He felt the sweat beading on his face and neck and soaking the sheets beneath him. He tried desperately to remember to breath, but the air was too hot, too thick. And Eames would press a kiss to his upper lip that left him panting harder. He loved the warm flesh above him, the wicked fire within him, and the gray eyes that gazed deep into his own. Eames' was quiet, his mouth forming a perfect O, his hips rhyming against his own. The slap of flesh on flesh created an odd melody that Arthur found mesmerizing, and he felt every nerve in his body tingling.

It didn't matter that this was another first. Or that he didn't have a label. Or even that Eames was reading his soul with his eyes.

Arthur just allowed himself to drift in the moment. And that was enough.

* * *

A/N: Okay! Another act done! I want to thank all my reviewers so far as well as everyone who favorite or put the story on alert. A special thanks to those reviewers who were anonymous and that I couldn't reply to. You guys make my day!

A quick note: one reviewer mentioned the clichés that are noted in the summary. These are loose outlines for the story and while they are the basic format of how this story will play out, they shouldn't be taken too literally.

I will most likely continue the once a week posting schedule, so look for an update around the same time next week.

Oh, and please review. It's a cliché but they really do make me want to continue the story.

Thanks again!

sl

**Disclaimer: Inception is the property of Christopher Nolan.**


	3. Act III

Triptych: A Life in Ten Acts

An Inception Fanfic.

* * *

Act III:

Arthur wakes up alone. And it takes only minutes for him to realize that what he thought was the night to begin a series of amazing nights was actually just another one night stand for the incredible pain in the ass that was Mr. Eames.

.

Cobb says that Eames requested permission to become a freelancer. And Cobb had agreed because if they really needed a forger, he knew where to find him.

Mal notices that Arthur is not the same, but gives up when all her attempts at conversation go rebuffed.

Arthur hates himself for getting too close. But he now realizes that he has the perfect label.

Fool.

* * *

A/N: I realize that this is painfully short, but it was the right place to end to act. Because it is so short, however, I will try to update with Act IV sooner than a week. Maybe a couple of days.

So more to come. But this is where this had to end.

Thanks for reading! And please review, even if only to tell me how made you are that it ended here, or how you think it might end. I love hearing your speculation!

**Disclaimer: Inception is the property of Christopher Nolan.**


	4. Act IV

Triptych: A Life in Ten Acts

An Inception Fanfic.

* * *

Act IV:

"I gotta go visit Eames." Five years after the most amazing night of his life, Arthur is confronted with the possibility of seeing him again.

"Eames?" He thinks of an excuse, and he comes up with the truth. "No, he's in Mombasa. That's Cobol's backyard." He silently prays that Cobb will not tempt fate or danger.

"It's a necessary risk." Damn.

"Well, there are plenty of good thieves." Please, anyone else.

"We don't just need a thief; we need a forger." Dammit. If only Eames were less fucking talented. But Cobb is right; Eames is the best forger in the business.

So Arthur would just have to deal. He would have to be cool. He could do that.

**.**

It's a Tuesday morning when Eames sees Arthur again for the first time in five years. He's looking good. And for the slightest of moments, he wonders what might have been.

But Arthur's cold eyes upon him quickly snap him out of the daydream.

"Eames."

"Arthur, darling. You're looking well! How have you been?" Eames gives him his hundred watt smile, which turns into a subtle smirk when Arthur glares at him and walks away.

Still upset, then.

**.**

By day five, Arthur really wants to strangle him. The only thing that stops him is her.

Ariadne.

She reminds him of the innocence he once had. Back before this all began. Not only is she beautiful, but she doesn't know it. And she's brilliant at designing and building. As she shows him the design of his dream level, he can't help but marvel at the raw, untapped talent that flows from her fingertips. Her hotel is intricate to say the least, and she took the time to explain that she left room for some of his more elegant items of décor to be added to the structure.

And she smiled at him. It wasn't the first time she had done so, but it was the one he would remember most.

"What's a kick?" She had asked. Arthur was busy jotting notes in his pad.

"This, Ariadne, would be a kick." And suddenly Arthur's world had shifted, his center of gravity jolted and he felt the familiar sensation of falling. He quickly regained his balance, and shot a glare at Eames who had indecency to look angelic.

But then he turned to Ariadne, and her smile made him feel better.

As they boarded the plane, he gave her hand a subtle squeeze. And he received another smile in return before she took her seat in front of him.

But when he finally appeared in his dream level, he found himself conflicted by a series of events. Not the continued fighting with Fischer's security as the world went topsy-turvy around them, or even the difficultly he faced trying to discover how to drop five people in a state of no gravity. No, instead he found himself stealing a sly kiss from Ariadne.

And then sharing an amusing, light-hearted conversation with Eames that lasted only four sentences.

And Arthur found familiar feelings stirring within him as Eames smiled. A merry chase indeed.

**.**

Once the job was completed and Cobb had returned to the normalcy of fatherhood (minus Mal), they all went their separate ways. Yusuf headed back to his dreamers in Mombasa. Saito headed back to Japan. Ariadne went back to Paris to continue her classes and make up missed coursework. Arthur stayed with Cobb for a few days, to help him readjust, and then went to Germany for some rest.

He wasn't sure where Eames had gone. He told everyone else that he hadn't checked up on him, but the truth was that he had, and had found no record of Eames after a flight to Prague.

He was conflicted, to say the least. He didn't want anything more to do with Mr. Eames, and yet he felt drawn to the egotistical man like food to a starving man. He went to Prague to search for him, and realized the foolishness of his actions just before boarding a flight to London to visit Eames' flat there.

But then there was Ariadne. She wrote him emails every day. She told him of her childhood and her family, and her classes. She wrote of ideas and fantasies that only a fellow "dream stealer" could know. And he wrote back. He told her of his travels and his past, editing out some bits. He sent her a postcard from every new place he visited. They met up for dinner when he stopped over in Paris.

And for seven months the routine continued.

Until the Friday night that Eames turned up at the door of Arthur's Cardiff hotel room.

"Do you want to get a drink, love?"

Arthur gaped at him. But found himself nodding, almost stupidly.

"Where have you been?" Arthur pretended to act nonchalant as he asked, whilst picking at the label of his beer bottle.

Eames grinned at him. "Why? You were checking up on me, pet?"

Arthur couldn't help but grin. Those awful pet names still made him smile. He suspected they always would. "You wish. Just curious. Everyone else kept in touch, even Saito."

Eames laughed. "Our tourist calls you for advice, does he?"

"Nope. Sent me an email. 'To Point Man For your services.' And attached was proof of the wire transfer of my share of the profit."

"He actually called you Point Man?"

Arthur looked at him, pausing, and then a smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. "Yes he did. I am Point Man."

"I'm going to call you that now, love. Could be your new pet name or- no, it could be your superhero name." Eames finished his beer and beckoned the bartender for another.

"My superhero name?"

"Yeah, you know for when you come and rescue dashing thieves like myself from unknown whereabouts, despite proclaiming to not give a damn about my welfare."

"I knew you weren't dead or anything."

"Comforting, Arthur. Thank you."

Arthur shot him a look, and took on a falsetto-like British accent. "Your condescension, as always, is much appreciated, Eames, thank you."

And the two burst into a fit of laughter that had the bartender shooting them looks of warning.

But as the chuckles subsided, a more somber mood fell over them. Eames took a long slug from his bottle, and Arthur quickly followed suit. He had just remembered who he was sitting here laughing with, and why it should be very awkward.

"So, just a question for you, Mr. Eames."

Eames cast him a side long glance to show he was listening.

"Do you always leave your bedmates in the dead of night, or do you only stay and snuggle with a select few?"

Eames almost choked on his beer. "What?"

"Simple question. I just wondered why you couldn't just say you needed to go instead of sneaking off into the night like some kind of- well, like some kind of thief. And then, instead of just passing it off as one drunken encounter that maybe we could have moved past, you had to put an entire continent between us." Arthur gave his bottle a generous shove and watched as it tipped and rolled across the wooden bar top. The bartender grabbed it before its contents could spread.

"You know why."

Arthur froze. He knew. Of course he knew. He had simply managed to convince himself over the years that he had dreamed it. That he had overreacted and sent Eames packing to get away.

Eames shook his head. "I just…I needed to get away. And I know that's a fucking awful excuse, but Arthur…it's the only one I can give right now. I'm sorry if I hurt you. And I'm sorry for whatever else I've done. But unless you want to see me again, I'll make sure you don't. I'll stay away. Space'll do us both some good, pet."

He stood, the barstool legs scratching at the stained wood floor. He laid a single hand on Arthur's back. And then he was gone.

Arthur kept the memory of the warmth of that hand on his back for a while after the hand was gone. He could recall every callous on that hand; every wrinkled knuckle, and little scar below his pinky that he never got to ask the cause of. He remembered the soft touches of that hand along his chest and down his back. The sweeping fluidity of the fingers as they ghosted over the flesh of his thighs.

Arthur allowed his mind to overwhelm itself in memories of a sweaty room, filled with panting and groans of lust. Tangled sheets and whispered pet names, Eames' face above him, eyes alight. And then, in the climactic moment, words tumbling over kiss-swollen lips.

"Oh, God, Arthur, I love you."

* * *

A/N: So, bit of a cliffhanger. And I hope the length of this one will make up a bit for the shortness of the previous chapter. I am trying to religiously stick with the posting once a week schedule, and so far have managed it, but if for some reason I deter from that method, never fear. This story is almost entirely written, and so will not be abandoned. I always finish my stories, one way or another.

So I do hope you enjoyed this chapter, it's a personal favorite of mine. Please review because they are nice and shiny and let me know that other Eames/Arthur fans find my insights, if not amusing, then at least enjoyable.

On another note, for Arthur/Ariadne fans out there, I have a oneshot up now called _Rooftop Memories_ that I would love some feedback on.

Thanks! More next week!

sl

**Disclaimer: Inception is the property of Christopher Nolan.**


	5. Act V Part One

Triptych: A Life in Ten Acts

An Inception Fanfic.

* * *

Act V Part One:

Arthur spent four days in Cardiff after his evening with Eames; most of the time spent pondering their conversation and the things that hadn't been said. It was only when he woke up at three in the morning on the fourth day, still wearing his suit, television buzzing on low volume, that he realized this was ridiculous and that he needed to stop.

There was no point in over-analyzing the recent occurrences with Eames because they made his head ache. So he decided he would settle somewhere for a while, clear his head, maybe even buy a flat.

And it just so happened that France beckoned to him.

.

Ariadne met him at the airport, a big smile on her face, and a fancy placard in hand which read 'Mr. Arthur.'

They went for coffee to catch up, and Ariadne filled him in on all her recent activities. She had spoken with Cobb the day before and said he seemed happy to hear that Arthur would be settling for a while.

"What is that supposed to mean?"

She smiled at him across the table. "I think he's always found you to be a bit of a loner. Maybe he just wants you to live your life how you want, instead of following him around." She took a sip of cappuccino.

"I did not follow him arou-"

"Yes you did. Like a puppy. He even showed me a picture of you from back when you first started working together. Face it, Arthur, you've never worked with anyone else, and he taught you everything you know. You've always sort of been his apprentice. I think he's glad you're finally on your own."

Arthur had to agree on some of the points she made. He had never worked on any other team but Cobb's, and he had never really wanted to. He had always considered Mal and Dom his family.

"I never wanted to work with anyone else." Arthur idly ran his finger around the rim of his cup.

"That wasn't the point I was trying to make. I just meant that every great master wants to see their apprentice succeed on their own. Cobb is proud of you."

And that he believed.

Ariadne had offered him her couch for the night, as his flat wouldn't be ready until the morning.

He had never seen her apartment before, but it was exactly how he pictured it. The décor of the place fit her perfectly. There wasn't much space, but somehow the antique French doors that opened onto a tiny balcony, as well as the crisp white drapes on every window and the balcony doorway, made the space seem larger.

A miniature kitchen opened up just feet from the front door. It had yellow walls, with little vines painted around the top. He learned from Ariadne that the table and two chairs that comprised her dining table had actually been "borrowed" from a café a few blocks over. He found himself slightly impressed by this little act of criminality. Across from the kitchen was a couch and a coffee table, upon which sat a small television.

There were potted plants in almost every corner, and nearly every available surface was covered in paper: drawings, pens, pencils, charcoal. He even saw a box of crayons. Her easel stood next to the couch, just before the French balcony doors, and Arthur observed the drawing in progress. It was a man, that much he could tell, but the face was blank.

"Okay so the couch isn't the most comfortable thing in the world, but-"

"That's okay. I'm not really that picky."

"Well, it's just I know you're used to a bit fancier lodgings." She opened a small cupboard door in the wall and withdrew sheets and a blanket, which she placed on the couch.

He touched her arm, in reassurance. "Ariadne, it's fine, really."

And he was granted another of her dazzling smiles before she retreated to the kitchen to rummage in the refrigerator.

"Oh," she stuck her head out, "and the television only has like six channels, so, sorry."

Arthur chuckled. "Ariadne?"

"Hmm?" She brought him a bottle of water after turning off the light in the kitchen.

"What exactly did you spend all your Inception money on if you still live in your student apartment?"

"Well, you know, college ain't cheap." She took a swig of water from her own bottle.

But then the pair burst out laughing.

"Yeah I had some loans, but really I'm just saving it for when I get a real place. For when I settle, you know?"

He nodded.

"Anyways, I'll let you get to sleep. Goodnight, Arthur."

"Goodnight, Ariadne."

He spread out the sheets over the little gray couch, and then carefully slid off his shoes, and changed into a white t-shirt and pajama bottoms. He stepped into the pint-sized bathroom to brush his teeth and use the toilet. Then he quickly returned to the couch and burrowed under the blanket as the chill set in around him. For an April evening it was quite chilly.

He could hear her moving about her bedroom. And he could imagine her routine. Brushing hair and teeth. Changing into matching pajamas. Perhaps reading or drawing a little before slipping under the covers.

He wondered what her sheets felt like. Was she a silk person, or did she prefer simple cotton? Probably cotton. And as his eyes drifted close he imagined what it would be like to slip in beside her under those cotton sheets. What it would be like to wrap his arms around her and then wake up next to her in the morning.

And he fell asleep thinking or her, all the while having no idea, that she was doing the same.

* * *

A/N: Okay so it's like three in the morning and I'm super tired, so I'm going to post Act V in two parts. This is part one, and part two should be up later today or tomorrow. Sorry everyone, but it's been a rough week and even this part of the Act probably has some mistakes that I will need to correct.

So bear with me, please, and part two will be up shortly.

Thanks!

**Disclaimer: Inception is the property of Christopher Nolan.**


	6. Act V Part Two

Triptych: A Life in Ten Acts

An Inception Fanfic

* * *

Act V Part Two:

Six months passed in a blur. Ariadne graduated with Honors from her university, but had no immediate plans for what to do afterwards. It wasn't like she needed the money.

Arthur had spent the time reading, and visiting all the regular tourist attractions in Paris, some that he had seen before, some that he hadn't. It was an odd sensation to feel at once as though he belonged and stuck out like a sore thumb.

They met for dinner almost every night. Sometimes he chose the location, and sometimes she did. But it was always the goal to surprise the other. Both found it difficult.

Arthur tried not to resist seeing Ariadne as more than friend because of lingering attractions to Eames.

He had come to the realization that, though he had wished otherwise, the one night they had shared was just that, a one night stand. Arthur told himself this so often that he had started to believe it.

So one Saturday evening when Ariadne wanted to go and see a film that was playing near his flat, he agreed to go with her. He also agreed that she could sleep over at his flat when the film was over, since both would be drinking as well as way too far away for Ariadne to make it back to hers.

Arthur had no idea what the film was called, only that it involved a man named Joseph, a woman named Ellen, and another man named Tom. While Arthur spoke excellent conversational French, he had trouble following the dialogue and the subtitles at the bottom didn't help. So instead, he tried to focus on the emotion of each scene, to see if he could figure out the plot.

The woman, Ellen, was trying to become an actress. Her lover, Joseph, was an artist. When Ellen finally had her big break, Joseph wasn't willing to move to America with her. Later, Ariadne had explained to Arthur that Joseph had told Ellen that the man who had hired her was a fraud, and that she would be left penniless in America. She should stay in Paris with him because he loved her. But she wouldn't listen. She didn't love Joseph the way he loved her.

While in America, Ellen met Tom. He was a fellow actor, and he knew that the man who had hired her was no good, and so he told Ellen to instead come and work for his boss, because he could give her a small role in his movie.

Here was where Arthur got majorly confused, and all his years of French lessons were useless to help him decipher what was going on. So he turned to Ariadne and begged for help.

She smirked at him, and he could tell she wouldn't soon forget this. But she did explain that the movie mirrored Ellen's life. There were two men that she loved, but she had left one behind because she wouldn't admit that she loved him. While the new man loved her, he couldn't give her what she truly needed.

After several days of shooting, Ellen realized the mistake she had made, and immediately flew back to Paris to find Joseph. But he had gotten married to someone else, and she was too late.

The end of the film showed Ellen sitting by herself under a tree in a park, the park where, earlier in the film, flashbacks had shown she had first met Joseph. She watches the activity around her. Tom comes up and sits beside her, and while he appears to still deeply care for her, she laments to him that she loves another, and always will, and that he should find someone who could love him like he deserved. He walks away, and she again sits alone.

Ariadne was smiling as they exited the theater, but her eyes shone with tears. They deposited the wine glasses they had gotten before the performance back at the bar, and then made their way out into the bustling nightlife.

"Why are you crying?" Arthur was a little befuddled by Ariadne's mixed emotions.

She gazed at him. "I don't want to end up like her."

"What's that supposed to mean?" She stepped closer to him to avoid hitting another couple walking towards them on the sidewalk.

But before Arthur could continue walking, she pulled him aside, and looked up into his face.

"What are we, Arthur?"

He stared. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, are we friends or are we…dating? I mean, all the dinners and the movies and the laughing… We're so great together. But I just want to know where we stand."

"Um…this is sort of out of the blue, don't you think?" He felt his back hit the brick wall of the building behind him. She stepped closer.

"I know, but it's something I've been wondering for a while, actually since you moved to Paris. You have to know that I've liked you from the moment I met you."

He did, and he had gladly returned the feeling. But what he had to now admit to himself was that all this time he had outwardly let Ariadne see what she would like, while on the inside he was in turmoil over whether or not he could genuinely return the feeling.

Thinking upon it now, he could see why the Ellen character had inspired her to act.

"I just… I want to let the people I like know that I like them, before it's too late." Her slim fingers gripped his arms, and before he could stop himself, he was disentangling only to pull her closer with his own hands.

"I think you should. You know, tell them. Maybe they'll tell you something in return."

"You think so?"

"Mmhmm."

"Arthur?"

"Yes?"

"I like you."

He smiled, and watched as her eyes lit up.

"Ariadne. I like you too."

"Good. Because I was beginning to wonder if that kiss in the hotel really was a distraction after all." She linked her arm in his and they made their way back to his flat.

He let her sleep in his bed with him, but all they did was sleep. In fact, she had passed out almost as soon as she hit the pillow. But he wasn't worried. He snuggled under his silk sheets and wrapped his arms around her. Only a step away from doing the same in her cotton sheets.

He nuzzled at her hair, and absorbed the rich scent of her; the lavender and jasmine perfume she wore, the clean smell of soap.

He loved it.

But in the darkness of the evening, he gazed at the wall over Ariadne's head and thought.

The movie, while confusing, was beginning to make sense of a different kind. Ellen had realized her love for the one left behind, and would now never know what life would have been like if she had stayed in Paris with Joseph.

What would life be like, if Eames had stayed?

* * *

A/N: Don't hurt me! I know right now it seems very Arthur/Ariadne. Don't panic everyone! You know it has to get bad before it gets good! Hang in there.

Next chapter Eames will be back, but it won't be an easy return, or a simple one. Also, Cobb makes an appearance.

Act VI should be posted on the regular schedule, Saturday night or early Sunday morning.

Hope everyone is enjoying so far!

And kudos to anyone who can explain why I chose to call the fic Triptych. (It isn't that hard.)

Reviews are lovely!

sl

**Disclaimer: Inception is the property of Christopher Nolan.**


	7. Act VI

Triptych: A Life in Ten Acts

An Inception Fanfic.

* * *

Act VI:

Two months later, Ariadne moved in to Arthur's flat.

They lived simply, but simply for them was quite different from simply for someone else.

And then Cobb called.

He had a job that he needed his best Point Man and Architect for. It was a simple in and out kind of mission. A global telephone company wanted insider secrets on its closest competitor in order to remain ahead of the race.

Arthur and Ariadne were both excited to jump back into dreams again. Neither had gone under since the Inception job, and Ariadne was beginning to feel rusty. Immediately she began sketching, just to practice. Arthur also took to his task right away. He began researching the employees of their target, trying to find a weak link. They booked a flight for a Friday morning, and hours later were greeting Cobb and his children.

Arthur noted the changes that Dom had made in the home's décor. He had subtly removed some traces of Mal. But not all of them. Her picture was still next to every other in the house. But her clothes were missing from the closet and little knick knacks that she had collected were now boxed in the garage.

Miles was staying with the children while Dom was away, and he cheerfully greeted Arthur and Ariadne when they entered the kitchen. A suitcase sat by the backdoor.

"We leaving already, Dom? We just got here," Arthur questioned. Arthur looked up.

"What?"

"Your suitcase. Looks like it's been packed for days." Arthur motioned toward the case resting on its side. One of Phillipa's dolls sat next to it.

"That's mine actually, pet." God, that voice. It slid like honey down Arthur's spine. Just a few words and his blood coursed hot through his veins.

"Eames!" But Ariadne filled what would have been uncomfortable silence. One moment she stood next to him, and the next she was across the room, arms flung around Eames' neck in a tight embrace. "I haven't seen you in ages. Not since we had dinner. But, God, that was months ago."

This was news to Arthur, and he assumed she meant before he had moved to Paris.

"Missed you too, love." Eames disengaged himself from her arms, and smiled at her, before looking up at Arthur.

"Hello, Arthur."

"Eames. Pleasure as always." Arthur couldn't help the smile that slipped from his lips.

"Ha! I think I missed your sarcasm most, pet."

He took a step forward, as if going for a hug, but then thought better of it, and stepped back. If Ariadne noticed the tension, she didn't let on.

"Greetings over? Good. Down to business."

And that was Cobb in a nutshell. All business.

.

Arthur tried to forget the past so that he and Eames could perhaps be friends. Ariadne kept planning things they could all do together. Both he and Eames shut down the idea of dinner, and while Ariadne had pouted slightly, Eames had promised her a dinner for just the two of them to catch up.

Arthur thought that was fine.

The group of them boarded a flight to New York the next morning. Cobb spent a lot of time in his hotel room, making sure the correct somnacin formula was being shipped. Arthur headed to the spa to wind down. And Eames asked Ariadne to dream share with him so that he could practice a few people he had been working on, just for fun.

Ariadne was not exactly surprised that Eames had his own PASIV device. It looked like a miniature version of the one she was used to.

Once under, she was confronted by a perfect replica of Barack Obama.

"You're mimicking the president? Really? Isn't that like, illegal or something?" She hid her laugh behind her hand, then paused to glance at her surroundings.

"Where are we?"

Obama answered her. "This is the suburb I grew up in."

"You? Or Obama?"

"Ha ha ha." And he morphed into someone unfamiliar. A tall woman, wearing a navy pantsuit, pearls around her neck, brown hair pulled back.

"Who are you supposed to be?"

She was taken aback by the proper British accent that answered her. "Young lady. Aren't you supposed to be in a class right now? Hmm? What would your mother say?" A dainty hand gripped a thin hip.

"Are you some sort of school marm?"

Eames laughed, a strange experience as midway through it changed from the woman's cackle to Eames' usual laugh, low and gravelly.

"That was Mrs. Petersmith. Teacher from secondary school. God I hated that woman." Eames rubbed his forehead and gestured behind Ariadne. She followed his lead as they entered a bar.

"Then why forge her?" An aged bartender placed a glass in front of each of them. Gin.

"So I can hate her in detail." Eames grinned as he drank his down in one quick gulp. Ariadne sipped hers delicately.

"Is this what you do in your spare time, then? Choose random people to forge?"

"Got to keep in practice somehow. Plus, I like the challenge of trying to remember someone from long ago; the details start to slip away. Like with Mrs. Petersmith. I loved trying to remember exactly how she walked. The little sway in her step. Or the thin line she used to keep her lips in. Those kinds of things are what make or break a forgery."

The glass was refilled, but Eames drank this one slower.

"We're only under for a minute, right?" She sat her glass on the marble countertop.

"Yep. Didn't need that long, really. Just wanted a second opinion on the forgeries."

"They are very good. But then, they're always really good, Eames."

"Thank you much, love." He nodded to her before tipping the glass back and swallowing the last bit.

Ariadne looked at the people around her. "Are these my projections or yours?"

Eames looked thoughtful. "Care to test it?" He waggled his eyebrows.

She shoved him playfully. "No way."

"Mine probably. Since clearly you know your way around this bar."

"I don't-" But she did. As she glanced again at the décor of the bar, she realized that it was one she and Arthur had visited the week before.

"How did you know?"

"Well, one, you motioned automatically to the bartender. Two, I have no idea where this place is, nor could I, or would I have thought it up. And three, you keep staring at Arthur."

"What?" She looked around. And yes, there was Arthur sitting in the booth they had occupied on their visit together.

"But he's your projection."

"So? You were subconsciously looking at him. Which means, well, it was obvious here that you were looking at him."

"I don't think I'll ever understand all there is to know about dreams."

"Ariadne, darling, I've been at this for years and I still don't know the half of it. But he's coming over now."

And sure enough, Projection Arthur was walking toward them.

"Should we go?"

"'Fraid he'll hurt you? What with you invading my mind and all?" Eames grinned at her, clearly amused. "Don't worry love, I'll protect you."

But there was no need for protection. No need at all. Because instead of moving toward Ariadne as a threat, he passed her and walked up to Eames.

And pressed the most sensual kiss against his lips.

And then they woke up.

* * *

A/N: First off, let me say I am extremely sorry for updating so late. I was bombarded with midterms this week.

So a bit of a cliffhanger here. But I'm on Spring Break next week, so I should post on time.

Many thanks to my continued readers. I love you all and enjoy your reviews. And to new readers, welcome!

Now, to lift my spirits and let me know that you aren't too angry with me for posting so late in the week, please click the little button below and leave me a review. They make me smile!

Thanks!

sl

**Disclaimer: Inception is the property of Christopher Nolan.**


	8. Act VII

Triptych: A Life in Ten Acts

An Inception Fanfic.

* * *

Act VII:

"Oh my God." She was ripping the IV from her arm and crossing the room before Eames could even stand.

"Ariadne-"

She opened the door, and while he tried to reach and stop her, to explain, she wasn't having it.

"Just don't." The hand in his face stopped him short. And then she was gone.

Eames sat heavily on the bed. "Shit." He wiped a hand across his face. The entire situation was now royally fucked up. But if he was completely honest with himself, he didn't care.

.

He found her an hour later sitting at the bar in the hotel's restaurant.

"Didn't take you for a beer drinker, love." She didn't look up as he settled on the stool beside her, just took another sip.

"I'm not." Eames motioned for the bartender and ordered a whiskey.

Eames twiddled with the tumbler in his hands nervously. "Look, Ariadne…"

And finally she turned to look at him. "I'm not…angry, per say. Just seriously pissed. And confused. I mean, God, Eames, there is no way you could possibly know what Arthur kisses like unless you've kissed him before!"

God, that kiss. Their very first flickered through his mind, but Eames quickly suppressed the thought, not considering this moment to be the right time.

"Have you?"

"What?"

"Kissed him before?"

He emptied his glass before answering. "Yeah, I have." But seeing the look on her face he immediately tried to correct the situation. "But it was a long time ago, Ariadne. Years. Before Inception."

She rubbed her temples. "I just never thought that Arthur could be…"

"What? Gay? He isn't. One thing you should know about Arthur, he hates labels."

"I don't care if he hates labels, that doesn't make him any less gay, or me less of a fool."

"You aren't a fool. Do you honestly believe that Arthur is gay?"

She gave a heavy sigh. "No."

"Right then. Look, love, Arthur and I have history, that's all. And it's history. Done with."

"Then why does your subconscious still imagine him kissing you?"

And Eames had no answer. Honestly, because he had never considered it before, himself.

"I don't- Look, why don't we have that dinner I promised? I'll try to fix what I've made a right mess of."

She couldn't help but smile. There was something in his far-too-charming demeanor that made Eames hard to dislike for long.

"Okay."

.

It was only a few minutes before they were seated, in a tiny table next to the grand piano.

"Would you like a wine menu, sir?" Their waiter was a young man, perhaps still in university. He wore the same white and black uniform of the rest of the wait staff; however he had added a little red flower to his lapel. Ariadne thought it suited him nicely.

"No, thank you. Just water for me."

Ariadne chimed in. "And me."

"Very good." And the red flower man walked toward the kitchen, leaving Ariadne and Eames in uncomfortable silence.

"No more beer then, pet?"

"It tastes like cat piss."

Eames eyebrows rose to a comical height.

"What?"

"How on earth do you know what cat piss tastes like?"

She hit him on the arm, hard enough to bruise. "You know what I meant."

He chuckled, the tense mood broken slightly.

The conversation didn't turn onto pressing matters until well after they had placed their orders, and the red flower man had attempted to hit on them. Both of them.

This, of course, piqued Ariadne's interest.

"So, are you gay then?"

Eames almost choked on a roll. Then swiftly tried to hide this fact by swallowing. Naturally, this only led to more severe choking.

Eventually, he managed to down it with several gulps of water, just seconds shy of Ariadne attempting the Heimlich.

"I didn't mean to startle you. It's just, geez, Eames you flirt with everyone. Including the waiter."

He cracked a smile. "Technically, I'm not gay. I consider myself to be more fluid than that. I'll shag anything if it's gorgeous enough. There's a label for that, isn't there?"

"Yeah, I think it's called greedy."

"Ha bloody ha." She fished an ice cube from her water glass, before replacing it, wiping wet fingers on the crisp white napkin.

They had to pause when the red flower man brought Ariadne her salad. And Eames learned how incredibly odd she was as he watched her pick certain items off the plate. First the croutons, then the spinach, then the tomatoes.

"What are you doing?"

"I eat those separate," she said simply, as if it were the most normal thing in the world. "Normally Arthur tries to snag the tomatoes before I can get to them." Her fork paused over her plate. She gazed up at him, and he stared back, a bit concerned by her sudden silence.

"So, you and Arthur?" And the picking resumed.

"Me and Arthur." Ariadne had turned suddenly business-like, as if the best way for her to approach the topic was to distance herself from it. Eames had to admire her resilience.

"Were you lovers?" Eames played with his napkin, picking off imaginary lint, and folding it into odd shapes.

"In a sense."

This earned him a glare to rival Arthur's more disturbing ones.

"We were together for a while. But we were friends first."

"This was before Inception?"

"Yeah. A few years before. Back when it was still Dom and Mal and Arthur and me. We were a team."

"What was Arthur like back then?" She laid down her fork and knife, and rested her head in her hands, listening intently.

Eames allowed the smile to stretch across his face. Memories flooded his mind. "He was the same, only…I don't know, more relaxed. He didn't take everything as seriously as he does now. He had a bit more…imagination. And God, he was so young."

Eames felt a weight lift from his chest when Ariadne smiled at him. The reassurance relieved him.

"I can imagine."

"My first thought, when I met him, was that I had to have him. I was a bit more…aggressive back then; selfish. But Arthur turned me down. I can't imagine what he must have thought of me. Probably a bloody pain in the arse.

"A couple jobs in and we started having drinks together. I enjoyed just talking to him. I'd never really done that before. That's probably why I still set Arthur apart from everyone else I ever been with. I got to know him. And I really liked what I learned."

"He is interesting."

He chuckled. "To say the least.

"Eventually, we became friends. It really helped the team dynamic. Course, I only know that because Mal said something to me one day. She was so perceptive, that woman. Unlike Cobb, who could be hit over the head with a pipe and wouldn't notice. Mal just asked me if I liked him, and I told her that I might. After that, she was always smiling at me and Arthur. Probably freaked him out a bit, I imagine."

"I wish I could have met her. The real her." She turned a despondent gaze down to her empty salad plate.

"You would've loved her. In a way, you're like her. When she was pregnant with Phillipa, she used to cook all the time. Cobb refused to let her into the field. This was back when no one knew if somnacin was safe for babes in the womb. She'd cook until there entire house was filled with food. I don't think I've ever been so full in my life.

"She was always mothering everyone. I guess you could say we were a bit like family."

"I can see that."

"Yeah. See, the thing you have to understand is that I don't stick around long in one place. I get restless; jumpy. Working with Dom and Mal, that was longest time I ever stayed with one team in one place. I just… didn't feel the need to leave. I had a built in family, and I had Arthur. Did you know he's a sad drunk?"

Ariadne giggled. "I don't think I've ever seen him drunk before."

"God, I remember this one time, we got the job done but the plan got majorly screwed up and Dom almost got shot. Like shot for real, not in a dream. Arthur and I went for a drink, and I ended up having to carry him home. I got the feeling that Dom was a father figure to him."

"I always told him that Dom was his mentor. But you know Arthur, he's stubborn as hell." A delicate finger pushed a strand of dark hair behind her ear. Looking at her, Eames could see the beauty and brains that attracted Arthur to her.

"Yes, my pet is a spitfire. Got that word from Mal."

Her lips parted, and Eames felt even lighter inside that she was laughing heartily. It meant that the situation might not be irreparable.

"I think it was two years or something before we actually kissed. He was wearing the suit you saw in the dream we shared."

"You projected your first kiss?"

"Accidentally, mind you. He doesn't always appear, but when he does, I never know exactly what he'll do."

"So what happened?" Her eyes sparkled with enthusiasm. Despite learning that her boyfriend could very possibly be attracted to men as well as women, Ariadne was being surprisingly good-natured about the whole affair; curious even.

"I ballsed it right up. One of the best things that's ever happened to me and I screwed it up." The napkin was reduced to a mushy mound that could once have been a napkin; Eames threw it on the table, afraid the wait staff may charge him with napkin homicide and make him pay a fine or something if he tore the delicate fabric into little tiny shreds.

"How?"

"We only slept together once, Ariadne. It was only once. And it was the most amazing night ever. And God, I still picture it sometimes."

Her eyes widened. But before she could speak he continued. "But then I woke up. And the restlessness had returned. I couldn't stay. I packed my stuff, left Dom and note, and caught a plane."

"You what?" Her eyes blazed, and Eames was beginning to understand the immensity of the trouble he was in. "You spent what you called the most amazing night of your life with Arthur and then you left? No wonder he hates you!" She slumped back in her seat and folded her arms across her chest, lips pursed into a thin line and eyes glaring daggers at him.

"And here I thought Arthur was just pissed at you because you can occasionally be a real asshole. This explains so much. You deserved every-"

"There's more."

She stopped. Her eyes settled a bit. "More?"

"It probably doesn't redeem me any, but yeah, there's more."

"What else did you do?"

He sighed and slipped a hand into his pocket to fiddle with his token, the flat smooth surface and the rough outer ridges of his red poker chip.

"I told him I loved him."

Her mouth fell open, but she quickly snapped it shut. The waiter ignored the silence to step in and refill their water glasses. He mentioned the progress of their entrees, all the while staring at the mess that was once Eames' napkin before turning on his heel and walking away.

Ariadne spoke her next words slowly, as if unsure she could contain her anger. "You did what?"

"In the…climactic moment, I told him that I…loved him."

"And then you left?"

"Yes."

He could tell she was fuming by the way her shoulders hunched over, her whole body crouching in on itself. Her hands fisted tightly on the table.

"Why?"

Eames took a quick moment to think it over. It was a question he had asked himself more times than he cared to remember, and yet he still didn't have an answer that satisfied him.

"I suppose I was a bit shocked. I had never, and I mean never, told anyone that before. I tried to tell myself that it was the heat of the moment and people say things that maybe they don't actually mean. But that doesn't make any sense! Because it seems to me that you would be your most honest in the moment; the most uninhibited. So I thought to myself that, God, it must be the truth. I spent the entire plane ride to India contemplating that. And I came to the realization that, yeah, it was the truth. I was in love with Arthur. And, God, Ariadne that scared the shit out of me!"

He noted that she was looking at him a bit kinder now, almost with pity, but not quite.

"You did love him." It wasn't a question; more a statement and Eames found himself nodding.

"The question is do you still love him now?" She was staring at him intently, her hands flat on the table in front of her.

He smiled. Inside, he could feel the unease that came with lying through your teeth, but outwardly, he put on his best poker face. "Not anymore."

She didn't seem to believe him at first, so Eames continued. "Look, Ariadne, love, Arthur is with you. He loves you, I can tell. I mean, you're fucking adorable together and you know it. What Arthur and I had, like I said, was in the past. I've moved on, he's moved on. My only goal now is to try and be friends. That's all I can ask. I don't intend to do anything to ruin the happiness you two have found together."

"Are you sure?"

"Of what?"

"You don't still love him? Cause Eames I won't feel comfortable if I knew you two still had feelings for one another."

"He never reciprocated, Ariadne. The love, that was all on me. And it's done now. I want you two to be extraordinarily happy together."

Ariadne looked away from Eames' gaze, unable to meet his gray eyes.

"And if you like, once the job is over, the pair of you don't ever have to see me again, if you'd like. I've gotten pretty good at becoming invisible."

He stood, slipping his jacket on, and sliding his chair under the table.

"Best wishes, Ariadne. To both of you." And with a final smile, he was gone.

And the red flower waiter decided to appear at that moment with their food. He looked at Eames' retreating figure. "So, he won't be eating then?"

Ariadne looked up at him. "Not tonight, no. Tonight, it's just me.

A/N: Okay so I majorly lied when I said this would be the second part of Act VI. I was looking over my original plans for this story and I realized I miscalculated a bit. So this is Act VII, and last chapter has been renamed as simply Act VI.

Act VIII, however, will be in two parts, because there is a super delicious moment that I want to portray in the best possible way.

So, now Ariadne knows everything. What will happen next? It's all downhill from here, folks, and the ride will be amazing.

Reviews are lovely!

Thanks for reading.

sl

**Disclaimer: Inception is the property of Christopher Nolan.**


	9. Act VIII

Triptych: A Life in Ten Acts

An Inception Fanfic.

* * *

Act VIII:

When Arthur returned from a blissful few hours at the hotel spa (followed by a sushi dinner from down the street) he found Ariadne sitting on the balcony, a glass of red wine in her hand.

She seemed to be lost in thought, and had clearly not heard him enter the hotel room. He didn't want to startle her, so he slipped onto the balcony and stood behind her quietly until she finally noticed him.

"Hey."

"Hey. What are you doing out here alone?"

She smiled, but it wasn't her usual Ariadne smile. This one was tighter, her lips remained closed, and it didn't reach her eyes.

"Just needed a few moments to myself."

"Do you mind company?" He slid into the seat next to her, and found there was just enough room for the pair of them.

"I guess not." She sipped from her glass and gazed back out over the city. The glare of thousands of lights shone off her eyes.

Arthur tried to slip an arm around her shoulders, but she shrugged him off. The move had been made nonchalantly, as if she did it accidentally, but Arthur could sense something was wrong.

"How'd the dream go with Eames?" It wasn't an easy topic for Arthur to introduce, but he figured he could somehow segue it into finding out what was wrong with his girlfriend.

Ariadne continued staring in the distance, and refused to look at Arthur directly. When she finally answered, Arthur could tell that Eames was definitely part of the problem.

"Alright, I suppose." She downed the last bit of wine, and sat the cup next to the chair. When she sat up again, she wrapped her arms around herself, holding her robe closer together.

"He still as arrogant as he used to be?"

"A bit, yeah."

Arthur was growing increasingly frustrated, but he knew Ariadne well enough to know that pushing her would only make her withdraw; he was the same way.

"Did something happen?" And finally, finally, he gained a response. She turned to look at him, her eyes alight. But she didn't answer. Instead she stood and went back into the hotel room.

"Ariadne?" Quickly, Arthur jumped to his feet and followed. He found her rifling through her luggage. "Ariadne, what happened?"

"Nothing." She continued rifling, tossing items from the closet into her suitcase and organizing them. Arthur stood awkwardly across from her, unsure of what to do.

"Something had to have happened. You're acting differently than when I saw you earlier and the only thing that's happened since then is the dream sharing with Eames. Did he do something? Because if he did I swear to God, I'll-"

"You'll what? Hit him? Tell me something, Arthur, why do you hate him so much?" She stopped tossing clothes into her suitcase and stared at him.

"I…I don't…hate him, per say."

"What does that even mean?" Her hands were on her hips now.

"I don't hate, I just don't…care for him." Arthur desperately wanted her to understand that the conversation should end there. It should be dropped and forgotten about, and after tomorrow they could move forward and Arthur wouldn't have to see Eames again.

She was quiet for a few moments, and then finally rounded the bed and sat, pulling him down beside her. "Well, he cares for you."

It was the tone of her voice that got him. She wasn't trying to defend Eames' honor as a friend might; instead she was letting Arthur know, through her tone and her eyes, that she knew more than she had a few hours previously.

"What did he tell you?" And it was his turn to be upset.

She didn't answer.

"Ariadne, whatever he said, you have to know that it's all him, okay. It's all him and anything between us was forever ago, and means nothing."

"Does it really?"

Arthur sighed in exasperation and massaged the bridge of his nose.

"He didn't go about trying to tell me anything. We were in the dream and one of his projections was you and-"

"Why did he project me?"

She gave him a mocking glare. "Like anyone can choose who they project. Come on, Arthur. Anyways, I thought at first you were going to attack me, but instead you came over and…you kissed Eames."

His eyebrows rose to record breaking heights.

"And, God, Arthur, it was one of the hottest kisses I have ever seen. Naturally, we woke up then and I freaked out, because, geez, there was no way he knew what you kissed like unless you had kissed before."

The eyebrows lowered now as Arthur's face shrank into a frown. He was about to speak, but she cut him off.

"So I ran off, confused, and he found me at the bar downstairs, offered to take me to dinner to explain."

"Explain what?"

She grabbed his hand, and held it lightly between her own. "He told me that you two had history. That you had slept together. He told me about what he said. And, God, I know it's awful what he did to you, Arthur! He shouldn't have just left you without an explanation. But he was scared. And I understand that feeling. Arthur, I gotta be honest, sometimes you're a blank slate. I can't tell what you're feeling, or if you're feeling anything. And that just made Eames more confused. Didn't he ever tell you that he had never loved anyone before you? That he cares for you?"

Arthur jerked his hand away. "No. How could he? When I woke up in that fucking hotel room he was gone! He'd left the country! Hell, he'd left the continent! Am I supposed to just pretend that nothing happened? That we can just be best buddies when he turns up again? Because that's bullshit, Ariadne."

"He said he tried to apologize to you after Inception."

"He did, but that doesn't change anything. What we had was back then and I'm over it now. I'm with you, and I want to be with you. Him weaseling himself back into my life is only going to piss me off. I'm not going to let him screw this up for me just because he's suddenly decided he made a mistake and wants me back!"

She looked taken aback. In a few short sentences Arthur had both confirmed and denied several things at once that Ariadne has suspected since speaking with Eames. Arthur was catching his breath after his tirade and was attempting to compose himself.

"He doesn't want to mess this up."

Arthur stared at her. "What?"

"He told me that he's happy you've found happiness with me and that he wants us to be together. He only wants to be a friend, Arthur, that's all."

He scoffed.

"What? You think he can't be a friend?"

"No actually, I don't."

Ariadne sighed heavily. They sat together in silence for a few minutes, neither daring to say something to excite the other, until finally Ariadne broke the silence.

"Neither do I."

"What?"

"I don't think he can just be a friend."

"You were the one just defending him-"

"I know. But I see the way he looks at you, Arthur. And I don't care what he says, I think he's been in love with you since the moment he met you, but when he finally realized it, he scared himself. He told me he's over you, but I don't believe him."

"Probably for the best."

"Maybe. But the thing is, I don't believe you, either."

"What does that mean?"

"You think I only watch the way he looks at you? Arthur ever since we saw him at Dom's house you can't peel your eyes away. And you might think your look is filled with contempt, but let me tell you, the look he gets when he watches you, you get when you look at him. I told myself at first that is was nothing, but after talking to Eames tonight, I have to wonder. Do you have feelings for him?"

He jumped to his feet. "No!"

"Just because you didn't tell him back then, and putting aside that he left you after one night, can you honestly tell me that you don't care for him? That you don't wonder what life would be like if he hadn't left that night?"

Instead of answering, Arthur tried to veer into a new topic. "None of it matters because I'm with you and that's exactly where I want to be." He reached out and tried to pull her into his arms, but she stepped back.

"It all matters. Arthur, I would be so upset with myself if I kept you from someone you loved."

"I don't love him!"

"Whether or not you do, I feel bad that because of me you're ignoring what you feel for Eames, and, God, don't you dare say you don't have feelings for him. I was thinking about all of us while out on the balcony. I thought about Inception and your interactions. Arthur, you act differently around him. I can tell you're attracted to him. I don't care if you're bisexual-"

"I'm not-"

"Whatever. Don't subscribe to a label, that doesn't make it wrong. You like him, and I want you to make absolutely sure that there is nothing between the two of you before we continue this relationship. Arthur, I can't be with you knowing that you should be with someone else."

"I want to be with-"

"It doesn't matter. I just think that, for right now, maybe we should…take a break."

"A break?"

"Look, I just need…space. I got a room down the hall. I just think we need to be apart for a while. At least until you know that you and Eames are actually over."

She went back to the suitcase and zipped it closed. "Just think things over, Arthur. And be honest with yourself. I love you. But because I love you, I want you to be happy, even if that means you're happy with Eames instead of me." She grabbed her bath tote from the bathroom and walked towards the door. "I'm in 607 if you need anything. We'll talk more after the job is done."

And then she stepped into the hallway and eased the door closed behind her. Arthur stood in shocked silence, trying to piece everything together in his head. She wanted a break. She thought he still loved Eames.

He knew that he should be happy she cared so much, but he couldn't see past the fact that because Eames had spilled the story of their sordid one night stand, Ariadne thought they still wanted each other.

The more he thought, the more pissed he became. Why did Eames have to open his big fucking mouth? He was so adamant about not ruining the relationship between Ariadne and Arthur, but he had royally fucked it up anyways.

Arthur paced and fumed for ten minutes, and then found himself in front of Eames hotel room, banging on the door.

The anger radiated off him, and when Eames' face finally appeared, Arthur had to seriously restrain himself from pummeling him.

"Why did you have to fucking tell her everything?" He shoved Eames aside and stormed into the room.

"Lovely to see you as well, pet," Eames returned, shutting the door. He had clearly just gotten out of the shower, as the white hotel bathrobe clung to his skin, and water droplets hung from the hair at the base of his neck.

"I mean, why did you have to say anything? Now she's all convinced that I'm in love with you!"

"Sorry, what are you talking about?"

"Don't act like an idiot! Why did you have to open your big fucking mouth?" Arthur's chest heaved slightly and his face was flushed in anger.

"She wanted to know why my projection of you kissed me. I had to tell her."

"No you didn't!"

"She had the right to know! Honestly I'm surprised you didn't tell her before now." Eames leaned against the wall near the door, crossing his ankles.

"She didn't need to know. It wasn't required information. I don't fucking love you, Eames, and I never did! How could I possibly after you left me alone in that fucking hotel room!"

"Is this about me telling Ariadne, or me leaving? Because I already apologized for that. And I told Ariadne that my feelings for you are gone. I want the two of you to be happy together-"

"If you wanted us to be so happy together," Arthur snapped sarcastically, "you should have left it alone. Now she thinks I still love you and she doesn't want us to be together until she's convinced that I don't."

"Well, I'll just let her know that you-"

"No! You're done talking to her about this!"

Arthur stepped forward until he was inches from Eames' face. "All I want from you now is for you to leave me the fuck alone!"

"I only wanted to be a friend, pet."

"No! No friends, no talking, nothing. Because every word out of your mouth seems to cause me more trouble. After this job, just stay away."

Eames looked a bit upset by this, but quickly regained composure and stood his ground, chest to chest with a furious Arthur.

"You can't dictate what the bloody fuck I do, pet. I already told Ariadne I'd stay away if that was what the two of you wanted."

"Then stay away."

"I wasn't finished! But Ariadne doesn't want me too. See, some people actually like having me around. Remember when you used to be one of those people?"

Arthur glared at him, his eyes falling level with Eames'. "As far as I'm concerned, I was never one of those people."

This pissed Eames off. Before Arthur could blink, Eames had him pressed against the wall near the door. "I don't care if you're pissed with me now, pet, but don't try to deny the past. I recall you used to really love having me around." He pressed his robe covered groin into Arthur's thigh.

"The past is the past. What we have now is nothing."

Eames grinned, spurred on by the anger-fueled hard on he felt from the brunette between him and the wall.

"See now, pet, that's where you're wrong."

And God it was so good to be kissing those lips again. He had missed the velvet softness that was Arthur's beautiful mouth. And he reveled in the fact that those lovely lips…were kissing him back.

Eames' hands worked their way behind Arthur's warm body, and he caressed the firm muscles beneath the perfect suit. Arthur's arms reached up to wrap around Eames' neck, he pressed his mouth closer, parting his lips to allow Eames' wandering tongue to explore the depths of his mouth.

Arthur ignored his raging mind and allowed himself to melt into the moment, to return the kissed and caressed because he wanted to. Oh how he wanted to.

Arthur felt himself shifting slightly as Eames pressed him into the wall harder, his groin sliding near his own.

Eames pulled their lips apart, and forced Arthur to look in his eyes. He stepped back, and slowly slid the robe off his shoulders, letting the fabric pool at his feet, and revealing his naked body in all its glory.

Before Arthur could think to change his mind, Eames stepped back toward him, and began unbuttoning his shirt.

Next second, Arthur was completely naked. Eames was supporting his weight with the help of the wall and Arthur had his legs wrapped around Eames' waist.

Eames gazed at him, heat burning in his eyes. And Arthur looked back.

There was a single moment of regret as Eames positioned himself. But all of Arthur's thoughts left him the moment Eames entered him for the very first second time.

Oh, bloody fucking hell, he had missed this.

And nothing would change his mind.

* * *

A/N: First off, my sincerest apologies for being so incredibly late with this chapter. College life is crazy right now, and I haven't had a spare moment to think. Hopefully the next one will be up in a more reasonable time frame. Hopefully.

Secondly, I really hope everyone likes the story so far. Please let me know if you liked the little (ahem) reunion of Arthur and Eames in this chapter. There are only two chapters after this one, so some resolution – one way or the other – will arrive soon.

A little note: Towards the very end, there is the line "entered him for the very first second time." This is not a typo, and is meant to be taken both figuratively and literally at the same time, if that makes any sense at all.

This chapter has made me up the rating of the story to M, both because of the sexual content and the language. (There was quite a bit in this chapter, wasn't there.)

So, I hope you all enjoyed!

Thanks for reading!

sl

**Disclaimer: Inception is the property of Christopher Nolan.**


	10. Act IX Part One

Triptych: A Life in Ten Acts

An Inception Fanfic.

* * *

Act IX Part One:

Eames woke up to pounding on his hotel room door. There was shouting with the pounding, but his sleep-addled mind couldn't quite make it out. He stretched languidly, and cuddled closer to his bedmate.

But the pillow was cold. Eames eyes jerked open.

Arthur was gone. There was no note. Nothing.

And for a second, Eames understood how Arthur must have felt, waking up alone in a hotel room.

But the pounding on the door became more persistent, and now Ariadne's voice could be heard over Dom's.

Eames jumped to his feet and wrapped a bed sheet around himself before rushing to open the door.

"I'm awake!" Ariadne and Dom starred at him.

"What?"

"We're late. You were supposed to be up and ready forty-five minutes ago." Ariadne shoved her cell phone in his face so that he could see the glowing numerals. "Why didn't you set an alarm?"

Eames ran a hand threw is scraggly hair. "Because I thought Arth- I was going to wake up on my own."

Ariadne narrowed her eyes, but Dom just continued talking. "Well, Arthur had an urgent family thing he had to take care of, so he's in Chicago. He didn't need to go under with us anyway. Get ready and let's go." Dom turned on his heel and walked towards the elevator, the silver briefcase swinging by his side.

Eames looked back to Ariadne who was still standing in the doorway, glaring at him. "What happened?"

Eames tried to look extraordinarily innocent, but she wasn't buying.

"Eames, I know something happened. Why else would he take off?" She leaned against the doorframe and crossed her arms.

"Maybe he had a family thing." Her frown deepened.

"What. Happened?" Eames ran his hand across his stubbled face, and clutched the sheet tighter around himself.

He sighed. "I'll talk while I shower. Wouldn't want Dom to have a hissy fit."

So Ariadne followed him into the hotel room, and waited while he gathered his shower supplies and clothes and go into the shower. Ariadne sat on the closed toilet seat, and listened.

Eames allowed the scalding water to calm himself as he told Ariadne about Arthur's rage the previous night. He skimmed over the details of their heated conversation and then skimmed even more over the details of what happened afterwards.

He concluded the shower at the same time he told her of waking up alone.

Ariadne stepped out to allow him privacy to change, and when he emerged, pink and clean in a red button down, she was sitting on the bed.

"Honestly, I think you deserved it."

Eames almost dropped the brush he was attempting to detangle his hair with. "What?"

"It wasn't nice of him to do, Eames, but come on. You have to admit that it was pretty good revenge for what you did to him."

"Like he hasn't had plenty of revenge over the years, already. Bloody hell, Ariadne! I already apologized to him! If he wants to pretend that he doesn't feel anything in return, then good on him." Instead of dropping the brush, Eames instead decided to throw it towards the opposite wall. It landed squarely on top of the mini fridge, still in one piece.

Ariadne was quiet. Eames sat on the opposite side of the bed and put on his shoes and socks. He didn't need to take this out on Ariadne. This wasn't about her.

"I'm sorry. This isn't about you." He finished tying his left shoe, and then sat up, his elbows resting on his knees.

But she didn't answer. Instead, she stood, and walked around the bed to sit beside him. She took his face gently in her hands, and brought it up until he looked her in the eyes.

"So you do still love him, then." She smiled kindly, and watched his face contort between emotions. Eventually, after moments of his inability to answer, he nodded his head.

"But I screwed it up. He won't ever forgive what I did, what I said. And I don't blame him. I suppose it's my punishment for having all my lovers fall for me when I never gave a damn about them. The one person I actually care for couldn't give a shit about me."

She dropped her hands. "You let me worry about him. We'll do this job, and we'll fix it after. You know I'd help you with anything Eames, and that includes this."

He looked at her, smiling. "Thanks, pet. Means a lot."

She smiled back. "Of course it does."

* * *

A/N: Okay, so first of all, my sincerest apologies for this update taking forever. School and real life got extraordinarily hectic, and the fanfic got pushed aside. The good news is that I'm almost done with this term, and once summer comes posting will be a lot more regular and dependable. Until then, please bear with me.

Second of all, I know this is only part one of act 9, but it was all could do on the limited time I have. This was a holiday weekend for me, and despite my original hope of having loads of time to write, I ended up having far less. So I will do my best to get Part 2 up soon.

Many thanks to all my reviewers, as well as to everyone who has alerted this story or added it to your favorites. You guys make my day, and give me the push I need to finish these last weeks of school. Special thanks to **annarky92 **who has been so patient with me. Thanks for being so supportive. I hope you like this tiny update, and I promise this story will be finished in the next few weeks.

One last thing: please leave a review if only to tell me how upset you are that the update took forever, I deserve it!

Until next time!

sl


	11. Act IX Part Two

Triptych: A Life in Ten Acts

An Inception Fanfic.

* * *

Act IX Part Two:

The job was one of the easiest Dom had ever done. Ariadne didn't know this until Dom mentioned the fact, considering that her extraction experience consisted of one entire job. So, naturally, she'd had to ask him why it was so simple when the Inception job had gone so horribly wrong.

"Well, for starters, Mal wasn't there." Dom had twiddled his fingers nervously. They had sat with Eames in a tiny café, and hour after waking. Ariadne had smiled and remained composed so that Dom would continue.

"We had plenty of information to use, thanks to Arthur." Eames had abruptly dropped his spoon, and it had clattered to the floor. He had sheepishly picked it up and Ariadne had thrown him a dirty look. "And of course we had Eames' excellent forgery."

Ariadne had to admit that it was brilliant. Eames had managed, if only for an hour, to forget the previous night's events, and had settled into his role. He was Roger Dalton, a fellow employee and friend of Donald Macomb, a junior executive for the rival phone company, and the unofficial head of the research and design committee. Over several drinks at a bar Ariadne had designed, Roger and Donald had talked. And Eames was his usual brilliant, charming self, managing to get Donald to tell him everything about upcoming projects, as well as plans for the company in general. It never seemed to occur to Donald that the real Roger would already know all of this information.

But then again, he was dreaming.

They had left the still sleeping Donald in the tiny bistro bathroom, two floors below Donald's hotel room.

Now, sitting in the café, they were trying to relax and concede it was a job well done. Ariadne supposed the job was quite simple. Very in and out, and Eames had done most of the work. Dom had simply played waiter and kept supplying drinks to the "employees." Ariadne had not gone under. She had remained with the sleeping forms of the three men, stuck in the tiny bathroom, all four of them tucked into the handicap stall.

Ariadne's knee gave a twinge at the memory.

But once they had finished their tea, and Dom had gone back to the hotel to call Miles and tell him he was headed home, Ariadne sat with Eames and studied him.

"What?"

She realized she was staring intensely and so looked away. "Nothing. Just trying to figure out what I'm going to do to Arthur when I see him."

Eames smiled. But there was not the same joy that once radiated from him. Now it was a simply the curve of his lips, and it didn't reach his eyes. Man he had it bad.

Which was why Ariadne hurried back to the hotel, packed, and then arranged for herself to be aboard the first flight to Chicago. However, the minute the plane landed, she received a text from Eames that nearly broke her heart.

Ari - thanks for seeing to Arthur, but it won't work. I've accepted my lot in life, and he isn't in it. Sorry for the wasted trip. But when you see him, tell him I'm sorry. For everything. It wasn't really worth the effort. I don't think it ever is. Keep in touch, pet. E

After flying all this way, Eames no longer wanted to fight. He was giving up. And Ariadne realized that despite what he had said this morning, he had already made up his mind when he had woken up alone.

.

Arthur returned to Paris one week after the New York job. Dom had called to let him know things went smoothly, and for that he was glad.

He hadn't spoken to Ariadne. She had called a multitude of times, but he had turned off the phone. He had a new suit made by his favorite tailor on Michigan Avenue, but even the shopping and the glamor of Chicago couldn't help him shake the feeling that something was wrong.

He should be happy. He'd gotten his lust for Mr. Eames out of his system, and then had pulled off one of the best revenge plans in history, without actually knowing he was doing it at the time. But there was a burning in the pit of his stomach that wouldn't give him peace.

So he flew back to Paris, both to pick up his stuff, and also to see where things stood with Ariadne.

The minute he stepped through the front door, he knew he was in trouble.

She didn't say a word; just sat in the little leather chair by the television. She was facing the door, and her eyes bored into him. She was wearing her lounge pants, with a purple t-shirt, as though she was preparing for a nice, relaxing day in. On her face, however, she wore a scowl.

Her eyes tracked his movements as Arthur sat down his suitcase by the door, and removed his suit jacket. He made to go to the bedroom, but she cleared her throat loudly, and with a sharp jerk of her head, gestured for him to sit on one of the kitchen bar stools near the door.

"I suppose you think you're clever," she began, once he had been seated. It was not what he had been expecting to hear.

"What?"

She leaned forward and rested her elbows on her knees. "Oh, I think I'll enact the perfect revenge by leaving the man who loves me dearly just so that I can feel better about myself. Is that what you thought? Because that's pretty fucking messed up, Arthur."

"He did it to me-"

"So?" Her eyebrows were almost disappearing into her faux bangs which she had always said she was going to try, but never got around to. "That makes it okay? Jesus, Arthur, the man loves you!"

Arthur swallowed heavily, and his fingers twitched. He wanted to speak; knew he should be defending himself. But the heavy hurt in his stomach prevented him from voicing his opinion. The pain in his chest wanted him to sit there and take what Ariadne was dishing out: the truth. He deserved every word she was saying.

"He's apologized so many fucking times! How many more, Arthur? How many more before you realize he's serious? Whatever he's told you since the first time you made love, is a lie. He meant what he said then, he loves you!"

Arthur balled his hands into fists. The ache in his chest was spreading. Now he heard blood rushing in his ears, Ariadne's figure swam in front of his eyes. He tried to focus in on what she was saying, but it was as if he'd gone deaf.

"Are you listening to what I'm saying? God, Arthur, I never took you for some cruel asshole, but I've been wrong before. Remember that movie we saw a few months ago? I was wrong about it Arthur. You're the one who's leaving someone behind. And, God, Arthur I don't want you to look back at your life and regret that you let him go!" She was crying now, overcome with emotion. But she wasn't sobbing. The tears simply leaked from her eyes and tumbled gracefully down her pale cheeks.

"Do you know what he said to me? He thinks he deserves to be treated like crap. Because all his life he's acted like he's above people; he's treated his lovers like crap. But now the one person he loves couldn't care less about him!"

Arthur swallowed again, and tried to clear the lump from his throat. When he spoke, it came out as just above a whisper, and it took Ariadne a moment to realize he had spoken at all. "He said that?"

"I'm paraphrasing a little." She let out a laugh that was cracked by a sob. It was an interesting sound. Arthur couldn't help the tiny smile on his lips either. "But he loves you, Arthur. He's loved you since the moment he met you. You changed him from some asshole that goes from lover to lover, fleeing the permanent, to someone who actually wanted to stay. To stay with you."

"I know."

"What?"

"I know he loves me. I believed him the first time." He avoided her eyes, but she searched for them anyways.

"Then why did you leave him?" She stood, and carefully tread towards him, stooping slightly to look up into his face. She clasped his hands in hers, and waited for the answer she already knew.

"Because I love him." She smiled, and waited until he opened his eyes.

"I know."

He gazed at her, his face full of so many emotions she couldn't pinpoint just one. She wiped the tears from her own cheeks, and then wrapped her arms around him in a giant bear hug.

Her next words came out in a whisper, and she murmured them straight into his ear, to be sure he heard them and understood their meaning.

"But he doesn't. You need to fix that." She pulled away, and then pulled out a plane ticket.

"You need to go visit Eames." She straightened out her shirt, and patted his hair back into place from where she had mussed it hugging him. "He's in Mombasa with Yusuf. Make this right, Arthur. You two have waited far too long to accept the truth right in front of you."

She placed the ticket into his hands, and as he wrapped his fingers around it, accepting it, the heaviness in his chest eased a little.

It was time for him to put away all the labels he had unwillingly accumulated over the past few years. Fool. Coward. Asshole.

And it was time to finally accept the one label he found acceptable. The one that fit him best.

Lover.

* * *

A/N: Okay people, we're in the home stretch now! Only one more Act left? Will Arthur and Eames work everything out and be together? Why is Ariadne so damn supportive? Will Dom ever figure out what's going on?

Review and let me know what you hope the story will end with! What would you love to see happen?

Also, kudos to anyone who can tell me why the story name is Triptych.

**Inception is the property of Christopher Nolan.**

Until next time, thanks for reading!

sl


	12. Act X Part One

Triptych: A Life in Ten Acts

An Inception Fanfic.

* * *

Act X Part 1

She wore a dark brown blouse that had lace around the collar. The color didn't really work for her stocky build and medium height, but there was a certain beauty in her face. Her cheekbones were high, her lips pouty, and her gray eyes shone like glass as they travelled across the page of her fashion magazine.

To those who passed her on the street, she wouldn't look like much; mostly plain but with a delicate smile. He could easily see her slipping into the background, becoming invisible. But here, at her counter throne, she reigned with magnificence.

And at the moment, she was Arthur's last hope.

.

After eating a small dinner with Ariadne, Arthur had switched out the clothes in his suitcase for new ones and went back to the airport. It would be his first time seeing Yusuf in person since the Inception job, and Arthur was desperately hoping that Yusuf's presence might give him strength to say what he needed to say.

Except when Arthur arrived at Yusuf's shop in Mombasa, nine hours after leaving Ariadne in Paris, it was to find Yusuf, alone.

He was gone. Eames had come, said his hellos, and then said his goodbyes. The only clue Yusuf could provide for his whereabouts was that Eames had mentioned something about returning to his home in London. And for Arthur, that would have to do.

It had taken four phone calls and a desperate search through a phone directory to find Eames' flat. Surprisingly, there were almost twenty Eames' in the London area, and as Arthur had no idea what Eames' proper name was, he had had to dial each number until he reached one that sounded promising.

And so here he was.

.

It was a humble little building, only six stories, but clean and in good repair. Upon his entrance into the lobby Arthur had found the place deserted except for the plain little concierge behind a desk.

And as the keeper of building files, including names and room numbers, she was the reigning regent of the building and the only person left who could help him.

After two minutes of quiet observation, the woman finally looked up from her reading and noticed him.

"Oh, hello. Can I help you?" Her accent was startlingly British and reminded him of Eames and his smooth baritone that sent aching shivers down his spine.

Arthur approached and was awarded a glimpse at the woman's ample cleavage, before covered by the magazine. The lace trim served only as a beacon to single out her assets.

Arthur was embarrassed for her.

"Yes, I believe I spoke with you on the phone about Mr. Eames?" Arthur placed his hands, folded, on the top of the counter and gave her a dashing smile.

Her smile in return made her face more lovely than previous observation had shown. In the back of his mind, the devil within him wondered if she was a previous lover of the occasionally despicable Mr. Eames. But he pushed that thought back into the depths of his subconscious. He mustn't jump to conclusions, especially now that he had left himself extremely vulnerable.

"Oh, right. You must be Arthur. He mentioned you a few times." She turned to rummage through a pile of papers on her disheveled workspace. "He fancied you, you know."

"He talked about me? When?"

She continued searching as she answered. "Oh maybe a year or so ago. I had just started working here and he comes in piss drunk one night, moaning about an Arthur. Spent the whole night here in the lobby talking to me about you. I was new, he was cute, and so I listened." Finally, she looked up. "Broke his heart, you did."

Arthur found he could form no words to reply and so she continued. "Anyways, you said on the phone that you needed to speak with him?"

Arthur's voice cracked as he began to speak. "Yes. It's urgent that I talk to him."

"I always imagined you to be much better looking by the way he spoke of you. Ah, well. He was drunk."

"Excuse me?"

"Oh, sorry. I tend to spout off a bit. Almost got me fired once. That's why they only started letting me work during the day last month." She held up the paper she had searched for. "Right, well, I have here the message I'm supposed to give if anyone calls for Mr. Eames. I'm to say that Mr. Eames is busy sorting his affairs as he prepares to move out of country."

"He's moving?"

"Yes. Came back a few days ago and said he was terminating his lease. He's been carting out his things since yesterday." She laid the paper next to her computer and gazed back up at him.

"Why didn't you just tell me this on the phone?"

She smiled at him. "Well, one because I wanted to see the infamous Mr. Arthur. And two, well, would it have stopped you if I told you not to come?"

"No?"

"Thought so."

"So what do I do now?" Arthur shoved his hands into the pockets of his trench coat.

"Well, technically, I'm not supposed to do this, but…" she smiled, and sighed lightly, "come with me."

"What?" He watched her rise from her chair and walk around the counter.

"Just come on." She walked over to the ancient elevator, that seemed to still be in good shape, and Arthur followed.

"Where are we going?"

She answered as she ushered him inside. "I'm not supposed to but since I can tell you're desperate, I'll let you into his apartment to wait for him. He should be back in about forty-five minutes. He always comes and goes like clockwork nowadays."

Arthur knew that he could so easily get this woman fired. She was letting someone who as far as she knew could be a complete stranger, into the flat of one of her tenants. Arthur could be a serial killer, or a thief. She had no way of knowing; hadn't even asked for identification. But at the moment, he didn't care. She was giving him the one chance he needed to get some redemption in his life; to repair the cracks and fissures in his foundations. To get back the one person who meant the world to him.

She left him alone in Eames' near empty flat. It was merely the skeleton of a flat. He could see a chair out on the little balcony, a bed, a couch. The kitchen appliances were all accounted for, and Arthur assumed they came with the flat. There were no personal touches of any kind. The essence of Eames was gone from this place.

At that moment, he was quite literally in a world without Eames in it.

* * *

A/N: So first allow me to apologize for the entirely too long length of my absence. For a detailed explanation of why I was gone so long, please see my profile.

I want to dedicate this chapter to every reader who has stayed loyal to the story even when updates were far and few between. You guys are the reason I'm back on .

This is part one of the very last chapter. The second half is already written, and will be posted in about a day, so no worries. I was considering an epilogue, but I don't think I will have one. I like where the ending is. If you think different after you read the last chapter then please let me know. I may be able to be talked into an epilogue if you ask nicely and justify what it should contain.

Thanks again to everyone who has read, reviewed, or favorite this story. You all mean the world to me.

sl

**Disclaimer: Inception is the property of Christopher Nolan.**


	13. Act X Part Two

Triptych: A Life in Ten Acts

An Inception Fanfic.

* * *

Act X Part 2

She had been wrong. Instead of forty-five minutes Arthur had waited for three hours before Eames finally returned.

At first, Arthur had sat on the couch unnoticed. Eames went into the kitchen, and Arthur heard the fridge open and then the tiny snap that accompanied the opening of a beer bottle.

It was when Eames entered the tiny sitting area, presumably to watch some television, that he finally saw him.

The beer nearly slipped from his hand.

"Hi." Arthur tried to give a smile, but sensed that only made him seem more vulnerable and suspicious.

"Hi." Eames sat the beer on top of the TV and leaned against the wall. "What are you doing here, pet?"

"I talked to Ariadne."

"And what did the lovely have to say?" His beautiful voice dripped with sarcasm and a hidden misery.

Arthur sat up, and leaned forward, laying his elbows on his knees. "She told me I'm an asshole."

Eames gave a half-hearted chuckle.

"And she was right." The laughter stopped. Eames face fell, and he approached, sitting on the far end of the couch, which really wasn't that far because it was a small couch. Arthur looked at him intently. "I'm an asshole."

Eames finally met his eyes, and Arthur could see pain in their depths. The spark of mirth that he was used to seeing there was missing and it was disheartening.

"This is going to sound really shitty, and so I apologize beforehand, but it's the truth. I understand how you must have felt, waking up with me and then leaving. That's how I felt. I was terrified. When you talked about feeling trapped and caged in and restless, I understand now. I felt that way. So I did something stupid. I left. And maybe on the plane ride to Chicago I felt a sense of revenge, but it was overpowered by the guilt.

"I tried to forget. I bought a new suit. I visited some of my favorite places. I called my mother."

Eames cracked a smile, and Arthur felt the tension lift slightly. "Yes, that's right, I called my mother. But nothing helped. I just kept running. When I met Ariadne in Paris, she basically kicked my feet out from under me, told me I couldn't run anymore. She's always been blunt, trying to ease away the bullshit that surrounds everything. She made me honest."

"Honest?" Eames was watching him closely.

"Honest to myself. She's seen through us from the get go, or at least she suspected. I know you talked to her. And I…I should have listened to her the first time.

"The truth is I always knew how I felt about you. The first time I saw you I knew you'd be trouble, but I liked that. I liked the friendship we had and the family we had with Mal and Dom. I loved the way you held Phillipa for the first time, and you were so nervous that you'd drop her. I loved getting into bar fights with you, usually because of you. I loved that after our first kiss you spent about ten minutes laughing your head off because of something you thought of in the moment. I loved that when you had the chance to bed me when I got drunk the first time that you didn't. I loved every stupid fucking pet name you ever gave me, and your stupid fucking sexy ass accent that I swear haunts me everywhere I go. Even hearing your landlady downstairs made me a bit weak in the knees because for some strange, unknown reason she reminded me of you. I hate the way everything reminds me of you now. But that just means I can't run anymore because you're everywhere I go. There is no escape. So I had to sit down and think about when it was that I realized I loved you."

Arthur paused for a much needed breath and ended up gulping in more air than was recommended. He gasped, trying to regain composure. Finally he looked up to find Eames' beautiful eyes gazing at him, waiting for him to finish.

"The first moment I met you. That's when I knew."

And Arthur closed his mouth tight, not wanting any more feelings or emotions to sneak out. He was tired and emotionally exhausted and there was still no guarantee that Eames would respond the way he wanted.

"So when I told you I loved you…?"

Arthur looked at him. "I believed you. I always have."

Eames smiled, and as Arthur watched, the happy mirth that made Eames Eames crept slowly back into his eyes. "You believe me."

"Yes."

"And you love me."

Arthur allowed his tired mouth to smile. "Yes."

"And Ariadne?"

"Is all for this working out."

Eames hesitated a moment, as if weighing options; then he slid down the couch until his face was inches away from Arthur's.

"Then we mustn't disappoint."

And Arthur relished the lips that pressed against his; the lips that he'd waited, seemingly a lifetime, to finally kiss again.

.

When Arthur woke up in Eames's bed he was alone and for a millisecond his heart jolted, thinking that it was happening again. But a quick inspection revealed the balcony door to be open, and a cool breeze crept under the covers around him.

Arthur wrapped the warm bed sheet around his naked form and made his way to the balcony. Eames was sitting on the little chair, staring out at the busy London evening. He looked almost peaceful, serene. It brought a smile to his lips.

"Hi."

Eames looked up. "Hi." Arthur was rewarded with a smile in return. He took the two steps toward the chair and settled himself on Eames' lap.

"Did you think I left?" Eames' cool voice broke the silence.

Arthur nestled into his embrace. "For a second."

Eames wrapped his arms tighter around Arthur's body. "It will never happen again."

"I know." Arthur watched the lights of the city and listened to the traffic and commotion below. Several of Eames' neighbors were visible on their own balconies. "I love you, Eames."

Arthur felt a small kiss against his temple and a nose riffling through his hair.

"I love you, too."

Arthur shivered in the cool night air, and as he settled back into place he used the friction to his advantage, rubbing against Eames' pelvis suggestively. Eames' body quickly responded.

"Mr. Eames?"

"Hmm?"

"Do you think your neighbors would object if we fucked right here on the balcony?"

Arthur could feel the grin pressed against his head.

"Care to find out?"

* * *

A/N: All right, so this is the end. What did you think? Love it? Hate it? If you didn't like it, please let me know why. Feedback is good.

Some may say: hey, why isn't there an epilogue? I decided not to write one. However, if you feel that an epilogue is necessary, please let me know why you think so and what you would like it to include. I can possible be persuaded to change my mind.

I have a few other Inception ideas floating around my head so you'll probably see me back in this fandom very soon. Sooner if you guys demand it. If you want, I can give a sneak peak as to what the next story might feature…

Thanks for reading the story you guys. I really appreciate it, and of course I love all the feedback you have given since the first chapter was posted. Thanks for sticking in there with me.

Until next time… See ya!

sl

**Disclaimer: Inception is the property of Christopher Nolan.**


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